


It's not a Kiss, but its something much better

by giraffewithstripes



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Kid Castiel, Kid Dean Winchester, Kid Fic, M/M, angel!dean
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-18
Updated: 2013-08-18
Packaged: 2017-12-23 22:12:39
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,043
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/931653
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/giraffewithstripes/pseuds/giraffewithstripes
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Castiel's imaginary friend Dean has gone missing, leaving Castiel all by himself.</p>
            </blockquote>





	It's not a Kiss, but its something much better

Dean sits besides him on the floor; their small elbows almost touching. Dean carefully arranges his soldiers, planning out battle strategies, while Castiel meticulously arranges his own into neat rows. Dean finishes quickly; now done, he picks up a stray cowboy, out of place with the military figurines. He cocks his head to the side, eyes narrowed as he mentally notes every periodic inaccuracy in the cowboy’s outfit. He voices this to Castiel, inquiring how could they make such faults. He speaks with a frustrated passion, his wings flutter against his back as he gets flustered; moving on to complain about the misconceptions of what headgear that the vikings wore. That was the trouble with Dean. He liked to give history lessons at inappropriate moments. 

 

Castiel rolls his eyes, telling Dean not to get his wings in a flap. Dean glares, puffing up the tawny feathers on his wings in response; as to make his displeasure more obvious. His narrowed emerald eyes spark daggers underneath his thick lashes; a feeble attempt to look intimidating. It would have been more effective were it not for Dean being just as small as Castiel and too darn adorable to look scary. Castiel humours him with a raised eyebrow, and a minuscule gasp. 

Dean’s stare of derision dissolves into a blush of surprise as his wing thwacks against a soldier, causing it to topple onto the floor, sending a domino affect along Castiel’s finite formation. He recoils his wings against his back, hanging his head in shame. Castiel grudgingly announces him the victor to save Dean from further embarrassment. Dean grins to himself, his anger sated. He crows in triumph. This was one of the few more imagined games that Dean could grasp without Castiel having to repeat himself over and over. Dean was a warrior of heaven after all, and had seen enough battles to reconstruct a fight scene in the little lines of soldiers. Sometimes he’d mention names of soldiers he’d known; telling stories about wars that Castiel had never even heard of. 

Another game he was good at was chess. Castiel could never seem to beat him, even when he had scrounged through his mom’s dusty chess guides, struggling to follow convoluted diagrams as the words swam together in an inky mess. Dean could slay him in three moves, four if he was slow. Castiel would bluster and mouth “Just how?” every time that he found his king cornered, unable to move from the hole that he’d dug himself into. Somehow, despite its repetitiveness, Dean would still ask to play. He asks hopefully now, pointing to the chess board with a small smile as Castiel picks up his fallen soldiers. “Okay…” Castiel sighs. As expected, Dean wins faster than it takes to set up. 

Castiel looks up, his eyes wide with surprise as the door clicks. Dean’s wings prick against his back as he turns to Castiel’s mother. ”Dinner’s ready Cas,” She says, holding out a hand. 

"Can Dean come downstairs too?" Castiel inquires as he takes her hand. She looks back to the bedroom with a sigh."Sure, sweetie." 

Dean hops along behind her, his wings fanning out against his back, eager to be out of the stuffy bedroom. He asks if Castiel wants to go outside later as he wants to stretch his wings. When Castiel asks, his mother promises him half an hour with a tight smile on the condition he finishes his dinner.

~:~

"C’mon Cas, you said you wanted pizza." 

"I know but Dean wants to try it." Castiel replied, picking at his meal. He cuts out a considerable portion for Dean, shifting it to the side of his plate.

Dean shuffles closer next to him, thanking Castiel profusely. A wide grin lights up his face. He fans Castiel with cool air from the whip of his wings as they expand against his back.

"I thought you said that angels didn’t need to eat," She says, her forehead creased, as Dean scarves it down; hissing as he burns his tongue on the hot cheese. 

"It hurts," Dean whimpers, his wings drooping, his green eyes welling up from the sting. He crosses his arms, cringing against the table with a soft yowl of pain. Castiel takes a sip of water, trying to suppress his small giggle of laughter at Dean’s melodramatic reaction, his jaw clenched as if he’s tasted something very sour. The angel of heaven, thwarted by a too hot piece of pizza. 

Once recovered enough to assist without hurting Dean’s too sore pride, Castiel instructs him to blow on his food and take a sip of water, holding out his cup to the crestfallen angel. 

"That doesn’t mean he doesn’t like to eat." He explains, as if it is obvious. Dean whimpers to himself, still looking like he regrets his decision. But even as he moans his fingers twitch towards the rest of his slice, so he hadn’t been too scarred by the ordeal. His mom sighs, unsure of whether to reprimand him. She takes a sip of her water as she watches him with a frown etched into her face as he talks happily to the invisible space beside him. He was six and a half, and all he did was talk to that "angel" of his. She’d never seen him play with other kids and it was starting to worry her deeply. 

"Come on Cas, I’ve had enough now. Stop messing around with your food." 

Castiel looks to her with a start, his dark eyebrows creasing over his expressive eyes. He hears a flutter of wingbeats and Castiel gasps as he turns to face a now empty seat. Dean is gone. 

Castiel sulks, vehemently refusing to eat anymore. He pushes away his plate, burying his face onto his arms. He closes his eyes. His mom shakes his shoulder. “Castiel, look I’ve had a hard day at work and you’re being difficult.” 

"You scared him off." 

"You need to eat." His mom replies, her voice going high and strange. Castiel hums "Hey Jude" underneath his breath to tune her out. She rubs her eyes, taking a deep breath as she pushes his plate back towards him, nudging his arm; making it clear that he won’t be able to leave until its finished. 

"If you don’t eat you won’t be able to go outside." 

Castiel doesn’t respond. He clenches his fists hard, holding back his tears. “Why’d you always have to be so mean to him?” He cries. 

"Stop this right now Castiel!" His mom commands. "I just - please Cas. Just eat." She asks, now close to tears. Castiel remains motionless, stubbornly refusing to cooperate. He sits in the same position until his food goes cold. His rumbling stomach and the tempting smell of pizza finally makes him cave. He takes a tentative bite, all the while staring accusingly at his mother as she drinks her steaming cup of tea across the kitchen counter. 

~:~

Dean doesn’t come back, even after Castiel is ready for bed. He sits alone in his room, all Dean’s favourite board games out in the hopes that the angel would return and start rambling about car mechanics or whatever it was that he wanted to talk about. Dean was interested in the strangest of things. 

He takes out an old penguin that he’s stashed away underneath his bed, laying it out on top of the boxes as a peace offering. “Dean.” He tries, jamming his eyes closed. He mutters out apologies under his breath, asking what he’d did wrong, why he wouldn’t come back. He says that he can tell him all the stories that he wants, that he can talk to him about viking hats even. He opens his eyes with a squint occasionally, his chest going tight with panic as he finds the room empty. He tries not to think that the angel won’t come back, instead closing his eyes to try again. 

~:~

His mom finds him curled up on a heap on the floor, cheeks flushed and wet; breathing deeply. “Cas.” She murmurs softly, her voice breaking as she struggles to scoop him into her arms, peeling back the covers as she tucks him in. She runs a hand through his hair attentively, shaking her head at the piles of books and games spilled out on the floor. “You have a funny sort of angel to watch over you huh?” She mumbles, her voice cracking as she tiredly tries to pick through the clutter. “You have so much stuff…” She says to herself, as she slots the worst of it back onto the shelves, giving up with arranging the monopoly bank notes neatly. She spots a couple of pictures of a boy with bright green eyes, brown spots for freckles and wings that looked like mutated hands. She could tell that this was Dean easily, Castiel had given her enough elaborate descriptions of his pretty emerald eyes, silky golden wings and his abundance of freckles. She tucks these with the rest of his drawings with a weary smile. 

"Night Cas." She murmurs, planting a kiss onto his forehead before she switches off the light, closing the door gently behind her. 

~:~

Castiel kicks himself awake, thrashing his arms widely; his throat too hoarse to scream. Tears sting his eyes. His mouth burns with Dean’s name. No matter how hard he ran he couldn’t catch up before he took off into the air, out of Castiel’s outstretched fingers…He cries silently, mouthing a silent plea in the dark, shivering underneath his covers. He hears another yelp behind him as he pushes and shoves against something solid. He swallows hard, struggling to breathe. A soothing hand squeezes his shoulder. Something warm presses into his back, a feather brushes across his cheek. “Sh…” He hears a soft voice murmur, hushing his sobs. “I’m here now, it’s okay.” The voice says gruffly, running a hand through Castiel’s short hair. Castiel swallows. Dean holds him until his is quiet, humming familiar songs under his breath. ”You left.” Castiel hiccuped, rolling towards Dean so that they can face each other. Dean bites his lip; his eyes black in the dark and incredibly sad. 

"I’ll always come back." Dean says finally, pressing something hard and cold against Castiel’s soft cheek. 

"What’s that?" Castiel breathes, startled out of his tears. 

"A kiss." Dean says seriously, placing the hard object into his hand. 

Castiel curls his fingers around it tightly, smiling weakly. “Promise you won’t leave?” He asks, his eyes heavy, smiling as Dean solemnly nods. 

"I’ll watch over you." He whispers, his gentle voice lulling Castiel back to sleep, a half formed smile making the corners of his lips twitch. Dean hums "Hey Jude" into his ebony hair. 

Castiel wakes; sitting upright in his bed with a start. His eyes dart anxiously around the room, gnawing on his dry lips. Dean smiles at him from where he’s sitting in a frayed bean bag, spitting out little balls of polystyrene. He squints over a book on his hands, his tongue sticking out in concentration. Castiel can make out the title “Peter Pan” in the curly lettering. His green eyes flicker to meet Castiel’s; he places the book aside, allowing it to slump onto the floor. ”Are you feeling better?” He inquires, his wings stretching as Dean shifts in his seat. Castiel nods slowly. He frowns, as he feels something hard digging into his palm. He opens it, to reveal a small silver thimble. Castiel weighs the small object in his hand, while Dean blushes; frowning at where the mesh had pressed itself into his skin like a stamp. His lips flick upwards into a grin. “That’s not a kiss, Dean.” Castiel giggles. Dean stares back at him, his tongue leaden in his mouth, unable to formulate a reply.

”But that’s okay. This is much better.” Castiel announces, making Dean blush; his feathers prickling in surprise. He stares down at the ground, trying hard to suppress a smile. 

He’s not given any time to recover as the boy in his charge lunges towards him, thrusting his arms around him into a tight embrace. “I love you Dean.” He declares.

”I love you too, Cas.” He chuckles, his arms moving to pull him closer.


End file.
